This Is the Way the World Ends
by SillverMedal
Summary: Every fifteen minutes someone dies from an alcohol related collision. It takes only a fraction of a second for a life to begin, to change...or to end.
1. Crash

**A/N**: This is a pretty serious story I wrote to commerate the eight people a day killed in a drunk driving accident. Every fifteen minutes in the United States someone drives drunk, and someone becomes their victim.

**Note**: I try very hard to make my writing realistic, and because of that there's some crude humor in the first scene of this chapter. If you are offended, please read at your discretion (but keep in mind, sixteen-year-old boys are hardly G-rated).

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the _Suite Life of Zack and Cody_.

_

* * *

_

_This is the way the world ends  
This is the way the world ends  
This is the way the world ends  
Not with a bang but a whimper._

-T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"

* * *

**This Is the Way the World Ends**

_…not with a bang but a whimper…_

* * *

**12:02 A.M.**

It was raining.

The little red car drove mildly along the dark roads, music playing loudly, but not blasting, and speed just slightly over the limit. Driven by a sixteen-year-old, he was accompanied by three friends, all the same age. They were returning from a classmate's birthday party, and basking in the reality of the newly donned summer vacation.

"Dude—Lauren was all _over_ you, man!"

"Yeah! Check it out-I see you and her heading towards, like, some random _closet_-,"

"-Actually, it was a bathroom-,"

"WO-OH!"

Three of the four boys hooted in approval as the car continued its journey home. The driver drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as he glared at a red light.

"Why they gotta do that, huh?" he demanded. "Red lights…It's like, after midnight!"

"It's the aliens, man, I'm telling you. They've got this whole planet rigged!"

"God, Drew, are you stoned _again_? This is gonna be a long ride home…"

The boy name Drew flipped off someone in the backseat who snickered with the kid sitting next to him. The driver, whose name was Sam, whistled romantically. "Zack and Cooper…" he said teasingly. "I'm pretty sure there's a motel up here—should I just drop you two off and-,"

"-Shut up," said the kid named Zack, laughing good-naturedly as Cooper, who sat beside him, booed. Drew and Sam laughed.

"Anybody else taking the ACT this Tuesday?" Sam asked the vehicle a few minutes later. Drew said no, Cooper shook his head, but Zack raised his hand with a theatrical groan.

"Thanks for reminding me," he said with an eye-roll. "I haven't even, like, prepared-,"

"-Hey!" Drew suddenly exclaimed, turning almost completely around in his seat. "I saw you and Monica at the party, man. Are you two, like, going out, then?"

As his friends made mocking noises Zack calmly shrugged. "Dunno," he said casually. He grinned. "She's hot, though, isn't she?"

"Don't ask him!" Sam laughed. "He was in the bathroom the whole time!"

"Hey," Cooper added, smirking. "Where you actually doing it, or just constipated?"

The car erupted with laughter, and when Drew opened his mouth to defend his dignity Zack beat him to it. "Maybe it was a little of both!"

"Ten bucks says he d-,"

-Suddenly something rammed into the car, slamming it off the road and into a ditch. The car turned once, twice, before coming to a stop at the bottom of the small incline. Screeching tires split the humid night air, and sparks lit up the black sky.

It was still raining.

* * *

As the rain fell outside of the building, a teenaged boy sat in front of the television, watching Saturday Night Live as his mother nervously paced around their small kitchen. Hands wringing each other as if for comfort, the middle-aged woman spoke nervous words as though they brought the answers she so desperately craved.

"He should be calling…he should be calling…" Suddenly she turned to her son. "What time did he say he'd be back, Cody? Midnight, right?"

Cody shrugged. "I think he said he'd call, like, a midnight."

His mother opened her mouth to say something, but at the moment she was going to start off another round of frantic concerns the telephone rang. She sighed and clapped a little in relief, and even the teenager in front of the television felt his shoulders relax involuntarily. He focused back on the skit revolving around a certain notorious heiress.

"Hello?" Carey answered the phone eagerly. "Yes, speaking…What-," her tone immediately shifted from hopeful to shocked. Cody looked up from the TV, cocking his head a little. "…Oh my God…Oh-…no, he was just—it was just for the ni—," Her eyes closed and she began shaking her head, murmuring the anguished mantra of _no, no, no, no, no_… "Is he-is he going to-to-…and they can't until—oh. Can you just tell me what they're saying-Yes. Yes—I'll be right-right there. Tell him-tell him I-I _love_—yes. Oh, God…I'm coming. I'm coming-," and with shaking hands, she hung up the phone.

By now Cody had risen from the couch, muted SNL, and fixated intently on his mother. "What?" he demanded, seeing her white face and tears. "What's wrong?" She covered her face with her hands and shook her head. "_Mom_!"

Sniffing violently and grabbing her purse, Carey turned to her son. "Zack's been in an accident," she told him, voice quavering dangerously. "We need to get to the hospital."

* * *

**To Be Continued**

_Please review!_


	2. Wait

**A/N**: Thanks for the reviews/alerts/favorites!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the _Suite Life of Zack and Cody_.

**

* * *

**

**12:16 A.M.**

The only one of the four boys to walk to the ambulance (albeit with help) was the driver. Shaking terribly and with blood dripping from a surface cut above his cheek bone and just below his left eye, Sam shakily sat down on the bench inside the vehicle. On the bed inside was his friend Zack who was unconscious, but in better condition than the other two.

Both Sam and Zack had been seated on the left side of the car, Sam as the driver and Zack as the passenger in the back seat. The impact had been inflicted upon the right side of the vehicle which was precisely why Cooper and Drew had each been rushed away in separate ambulances.

One of the paramedics knelt in front of Sam, who shivered persistently and made guilty eye-contact. "What's your name, kid?" the EMT asked gently.

Sam swallowed, wincing, and wrapped his arms around himself. "Sam," he whispered, teeth chattering. The rain fell harder outside and thunder split the air, loud enough to be heard above the shrill screams of the siren.

"How old are you, Sam?" As he talked calmly to the boy, the paramedic skillfully taped the cut and took vitals.

"Six-sixteen," said Sam, dropping his gaze and coughing. "I'll-I'll be seventeen in two-in two mon-months." As he spoke his voice got softer and softer.

"Okay," the paramedic smiled reassuringly and patted his shoulder. Carefully he took Sam's wrist in one hand, and Sam cried out in pain as he did so. The EMT narrowed his eyes a little and studied the wrist, gently prodding the upturned bones. "Does your wrist hurt?" he asked un-necessarily. Sam nodded, then seemed to regret the decision and cringed. "Can you move your fingers?"

Sam bit his lip hard and did so, curling the digits slightly before whimpering. Tears sprang to his blue eyes, mixing with the raindrops falling from his blonde hair. The EMT retrieved gauze from somewhere and began wrapping the boy's wrist.

From behind him, two other paramedics worked on Zack. A breathing mask was placed over his face, a brace around his neck, and they measured his blood pressure simultaneously as they examined the deep cut behind his ear.

"BP one forty over ninety."

"Pupils dilated."

Suddenly a monitor began to ring shrilly and all three paramedics sprung into action (Sam's attendant quickly leaving him sitting there, wide-eyed and terrified). "He's going into respiratory arrest-BP's one forty five!"

"Radio in—tell 'em to get the defib. ready!"

It was still raining.

**

* * *

**

"I got a call that my son was in an accident about fifteen minutes ago-,"

"-Last name?"

"Martin."

"I'm going to have to ask you to have a seat in the waiting room. A doctor will come and speak with you as soon as he can."

Carey stared at the young receptionist, hair a mess and thoughts jumbled and scattered. "Is he alright?" she demanded hysterically. "Is he _alright_?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't have any information. You'll have to wait…"

Meanwhile, Cody had sat down in one of the cloth chairs. He'd thrown on an old sweatshirt and tennis shoes, and he had a feeling he probably looked like crap. He didn't care, though, because none of that really matter when there was a chance that his brother could be dying.

Or dead.

He bit the inside of his cheek and drew his knees up to his chin, hugging them to his chest. Assorted people of various ages and appearances were seated around them, some looking more frantic than others. A few moments later his mother sat down beside him, hiding her face with her hands and shaking his repressed sobs.

Awkwardly he sighed and looked away. There were little TVs displaying late night sitcoms, and he watched one, mind completely blank. He'd read somewhere that teenagers were psychologically incapable of comprehending death, particularly their own, and thought that maybe that was true.

And that maybe it didn't matter.

…Did anything matter?

Sleepily, he shut his eyes against his blue jean-covered knees and tried to ignore the lilted sounds of beeping machines, panicked alarms, quiet cries, and the whispered voices of reassurance as they waited out the night.

He opened his eyes a minute later, suddenly having thought of something. "Hey," he said lowly to his mother. She gave a great sniff and turned to him, eyes wide. "What about dad?"

She composed herself before answered, and when she spoke it was with a quavering voice. "We should give him a call," she said softly.

"Yeah," Cody agreed. A beat. He rose, shoving his hands in his pockets and retreating to a little alcove across from the elevator, grateful to escape the tension in the ER waiting room. He dialed his father's number.

And outside, the rain still fell.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

_Please review!_


	3. Sorry

**A/N**: Moving right along :). Thanks to those who reviewed! There will be one more part following this one, and then I'll be focusing my energy on _Kill the Messenger_ with Suspension.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the _Suite Life of Zack and Cody_.

* * *

**This Is the Way the World Ends**

_…not with a bang but a whimper…_

* * *

The doctor's face was solemn, and he appeared tired. Cody was sitting on his hands, unconsciously leaning forward, heart beating as if determined to race probability. His mother was trembling beside him, her eyes were closed, her hands folded. It looked almost as though she was praying, and he thought perhaps she was.

"When Zachary was brought in he was already in respiratory arrest, and shortly after he was admitted he went into cardiac arrest. The problem was a mass internal hemorrhage, but we were unable to operate because we couldn't stabilize him."

Cody's body had gone numb, and he stared at the doctor with wide, glazed eyes. His blood thumped loudly in his ears…a rhythmic beat that echoed as if shouted from the top of a great crevice that split the Earth…that split the world…

"Is he okay?" Carey whispered, voice shaking horribly. Cody swallowed a lump in his throat, hands wringing each other as his vision became unfocused, foggy.

The doctor sighed softly, and then he shook his head. "I'm so sorry," he said gently. "We did everything we could."

And Cody felt as if the blood in his ears was being pumped through great hearts that bled for nothing, worked for nothing, _died_ for nothing. He felt like he was at the edge of some sardonic precipice, caught between a fire and an ocean. He dimly registered his mother's sobbing, but mostly he just stared, stared, stared, stared at the doctor who hadn't saved his brother.

It was illogical, it was ridiculous, but in that moment Cody felt that the mere face that this _man_ hadn't been able to revive his brother was the blatant equivalent of murder.

He might have muttered something about going somewhere, but he didn't notice himself do so as he stood and walked away. He didn't run, nor did he hear his mother's cries strengthen as he left her. He saw not where he was going, he felt not what he was probably, _logically_, feeling.

There was only a world of life.

And it had betrayed him.

* * *

For weeks following the accident Cody was nearly silent. He felt the weight of responsibility to care for his inconsolable mother, because his father was too busy trying to wrap his head around things. Trying to act strong and confident.

Like Zack would have.

So Cody was, like he'd always been, the one to dry tears and cater to needs. The hardest part for him was looking in the mirror.

And everywhere he went, it seemed, his reflection followed.

He saw himself in windows, in floors, in counters, in water…

And when he saw himself, he saw his brother.

He knew his parents did, too, and this was perhaps one of the worst parts of being an identical twin. Because no matter what color he could dye his hair, no matter how drastically he could change his way of dress, he could not alter his own DNA. Genetically, he was trapped.

He was a living monument; a breathing reminder of what his parents had lost, of what tragedies had befallen their small, insignificant lives.

Zack hadn't been the only one in the car to die. His friend Cooper had, too, and though his old buddy Drew had survived, it would be months before he recovered completely. Sam was fine…except, not really.

At the funeral he'd approached Cody, tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he'd whispered, voice constricted. The guilt had burned bright in his eyes. Cody had recognized it, because the same culpability was slowly eating him alive.

Why he felt guilty, Cody didn't know. Maybe because he should have been more sensitive to his brother's social life? Maybe because he hadn't stopped him from attending that stupid birthday party? Maybe because he hadn't frickin' _been there_?

He was grasping at something much smaller than straws.

The guilt was senseless and useless, and it left him after a painful month.

And then all that was left was the anger.

* * *

The drunk driver who had killed his brother was eighteen and a half at the time of the accident. His name was Joshua Gregory Allan, his birthday was June 19th, and he was planning on attending New York University to study business. He had one older sister, a mother, a father, and a grandmother stricken with dementia.

Cody had memorized a multitude of information about him, most of it minute, all of it pointless. He thought of Joshua Gregory Allan as a murderer, and so when the young man was charged with vehicular negligence and two counts of second degree murder, Cody was, in a rather horrible sense, damn glad of it.

And that was why, four years later in a crowded Italian Bistro outside of Boston, the fact that Joshua Gregory Allan was standing in front of him was the second biggest shock of his life.

It was all he could do not to scream.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

_Please review_!


	4. Closure

**A/N**: Remember me? Sorry for the wait! And thanks to all who took the time to read and review this story.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the _Suite Life of Zack and Cody_.

* * *

**This Is the Way the World Ends**

..._not with a bang but a whimper_...

* * *

"You."

When Cody spoke, his voice was soft, disbelieving. A cold dread had filled him, mixing venomously with the anger that had remained dormant within him. He'd gone to the bistro alone to meet a friend, but that engagement had long since left his mind. All that mattered was that Joshua Gregory Allan was here.

All that mattered was that the guy who'd murdered his brother was standing right in front of him. A free man.

_No_.

Cody began to shake his head, swallowing rapidly to counteract the bile that rose in his throat. He'd become significantly bolder and more aggressive since Zack's death, and as such he reached out and grabbed Allan's forearm. "Hey!"

Twenty-years-old and studying business at the University of Chicago (partly because it was a very prestigious school, and partly because he would have done anything at eighteen to escape Boston), Cody dropped all his sanity the moment he locked eyes with the one he hated above anything else.

"What's your _problem_?" Allan demanded, giving him a weird look and yanking his arm out of Cody's grasp. He turned back to talk with those with him.

"Why the hell aren't you in prison?" Cody nearly shouted. He was attracting the attention of people around him, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything, because justice—for the second time in his life—had failed him miserably.

"What're you-," Allan stopped, suddenly, squinting. Suddenly, as though someone had lit a spark, his face lit up with recognition. "Holy…" he swore, rubbing at his eyes and sighing. He turned, murmuring something to his companions.

Cody watched him, seething and nearly out of his mind with emotion. Allan turned back to Cody, and, saying nothing, nodded jerkily at the door. Cody's lip curled in hate, but he followed the man out of the restaurant.

It was the very beginning of summer and the June heat had just begun to sink in. At this point in his life, Cody was vastly unhappy with his career field of choice; desperate the escape the monotony of the cut-throat world of supply and demand.

"Okay, look-," Allan was saying. Cody willed himself to stay calm, and somehow he managed. "Jesus…" Allan rubbed his eyes, laughing humorlessly and sinking down onto a bench. Cody refused to do the same, standing stiffly, angrily.

"Why the _hell_-," Cody said, voice dangerously low and shaking in fury. "Why the _hell_ aren't you in prison?" Now his voice was rising, and he could no longer seem to control the anger he'd kept pent up for years. "You KILLED HIM!" he shouted. "When he was SIXTEEN—and now you're free to just grab _lunch_? I _demand_-,"

"Look, man!" Allan said prudently. "I understand, okay? But I think-,"

"HA!" Cody shouted, tears in his eyes, fists clenched. "You understand, huh? Well, that's just peachy. I feel all better now. Joy to the _world_-,"

"-I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry about what happened."

A car honked. The wind blew. Cody couldn't bring himself to say anything.

Allan continued. "It was the first time I'd ever had anything to drink, you know? And when I was driving I wasn't, like, completely wasted…I was over the legal limit, yeah, but not by too much. I wasn't paying close enough attention—I was fiddling with the radio, actually—and the car your, um, your brother was in was going fifteen over. It wasn't completely my fault-,"

Cody began to shake. "Don't even TRY to defend yourself!"

Allan spread his arms wide again, and spoke calmly. "I'm not justifying what I did," he said evenly. "I'm just letting you know. It wasn't all my fault."

Cody shook his head, nearly blinded by his unshed tears as he sank down on the bench. Allan cringed a little, looking as though he'd rather be anywhere but there. "After he died…" Cody swallowed thickly. "I was afraid to look in the mirror. I-," he paused to compose himself, taking a shaky breath. "My parents wouldn't look at me because whenever they would they'd just see hi-him."

"I realize that-,"

"-I never cried. I never…" Cody closed his eyes, wiping at him quickly. "I mean, I wanted to…I felt bad 'cuz I knew I should. But I felt like if I did…If I cried, or whatever…then he'd really be gone."

"Yeah," said Allan, staring at the ground and kicking at a rock. "Look, I-,"  
"-But that was ridiculous, because I knew that he was gone and there was nothing I was-I was going to be able to do about it. But still, you know? It was so messed up…and then when I went back to _school_…"

"I served time to atone for my actions-,"

"-Everyone just felt bad for me." Cody wasn't listening to Allan anymore. "And I felt bad for me, too. It was one big pity-party, I guess." He laughed humorlessly, and it came out sounding forced and twisted.

Allan threw his hands up. "Okay," he said climactically. "I'm sorry I drove the car that ruined your life, man. It wasn't my intent."

Cody blinked.

A little kid was laughing somewhere. A car honked.

Allan sighed. "Look," he said placidly. "I'm here on a date…It's kind of a big date, too." He shrugged and looked pleadingly at Cody. "I'm going to ask this girl to marry me."

All the anger suddenly left Cody and he felt rather stupid, dropping his arms to his sides and scratching the back of his head. "Congratulations," he said.

And then he walked away.

He was halfway to his car when Allan called out to him.

"I really am sorry!" he shouted.

Cody nodded but didn't turn around. "Yeah," he said. "So am I."

* * *

_This is the way the world ends  
This is the way the world ends  
This is the way the world ends  
Not with a bang but a whimper._

-T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"

* * *

**The End**


End file.
